


Art Appreciation

by ConstancePenman



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Portal Secret Santa, Post-Canon, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 12:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13248183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstancePenman/pseuds/ConstancePenman
Summary: Wheatley and his companions in space pass the time.





	Art Appreciation

Wheatley was an appreciator of the fine arts. Classical music (though from his skimmed reading, he was fairly certain he’d also enjoy the Romantic period), paintings, novels… He took his time in consuming it. As a robot with access to Aperture’s database of art—that is to say, access to _all good art_ —he had the capability to appreciate all art in a matter of seconds. However, he preferred to appreciate manually. It helped him pass time. After all, there wasn’t much to do up in space. Not that one would guess it from his unwitting companions.

The Space core, of course, was having a blast. Had been for about a month now. Wheatley, personally, didn’t think much of space. From what he could tell from all the art he’d appreciated about the subject, the only thing that made space interesting was the mystery of it. Once one had been looking at the same stars for any more than a week, the mystery was gone. Super novae were a spot getting slightly brighter and vanishing. Black holes were a patch of space with no light, much like the rest of space. The most powerful destructive forces of the universe looked exactly as boring as trampled grass. Well, no matter what Wheatley or impressionist painters thought of space, the Space core was utterly entranced. He had even taken up naming stars (and maybe constellations, though that was vague from Wheatley’s perspective). Wheatley wasn’t sure if it was Space’s trajectory or excitement that kept him spinning, but the motion fit the mood either way.

It had taken a long time for Wheatley to realize the Adventure core was moonlighting as a satellite too. He was so far ahead from Wheatley and Space, he had barely been audible. Once Wheatley had spotted him and they properly set up a line of communication, the surprisingly interesting monologue had him occasionally tuning in. Apparently, “Rick” was patrolling the moon to protect earth from an alien invasion. Wheatley didn’t have the heart to tell him aliens weren’t real. Not since his first attempt had been quickly thwarted by Space’s scattered statistics, anyway.

Sometimes, between great works of art, Space’s cartographic pursuits, and Rick’s Bond-ish pick-up lines, Wheatley would be properly aligned to look at Earth. He couldn’t see much of anything through the atmosphere and all those thick clouds. The blue-green-white marble didn’t bring him all that much comfort. It was pretty, no doubt, but aside from museums and historical structures he now knew the names of, he had no emotional connection to it. It was a blurred-out masterpiece—someone some where’s magnum opus or coup de grace (if he was using the term correctly)—and the smudge in the corner of his camera.

Often he thought, maybe space suited him better.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!


End file.
